Crowds of people, darting around in little mobs and lines that interweave and intersect, a few lone souls standing apart. The rumble of engines and the frustrated blare of car horns, as the mechanical objects plodded along the streets, the flow of traffic caught and tangled like a knot. A whiff of acrid smoke from the left, pungent and sticking, and the greasy aroma of fresh-baked pizza from the right, the signal of a nearby dining district. A shout and a cry and the sound of footsteps pounding on concrete, no doubt a thief making off with some careless tourist's wallet.

And above the commotion, overlooking it all from a wide, third-story window - a man whose smirk and steady gaze conveyed the utter, unshakeable sense of total ownership. This was his city, every grain of filth and every glimmer of treasure within its concrete boundaries. Every person meandering along, every car zipping through, belonged to him. Every inspiring love story between two people, and every ugly tragedy that tore the soul apart, each equally set squarely upon his shoulders.

Sometimes this idea confounded him, stretching the limits of even his brilliant mind - even more so when he thought about the rest of the world that also sprung from his existence. But at other times, at the ones when it mattered, it granted him a sense of comfort. Nothing was out of his control. Nothing was beyond his ability. Nothing.

Especially not this case.

A tap on his shoulder brought his focus back to the present situation, and Claire Stanfield turned to find Chane standing there, sheets of paper in hand. Freshly printed, he could smell the fresh scent of ink wafting off of them. It suited Chane, he thought, with her ink-black hair and sharp, addicting personality. Earthy, too -that was, she always managed to bring him back to earth.

"You got the papers already? That was fast. You must've won them over with your charm." Claire said, trying to snatch the papers from her hand.

She held them back. 'That's not what I used.'

"It's what won me over."

'There wasn't much room for charm while we were fighting off terrorists.' She said, reminding him of the circumstances of their meeting.

"Ah, so did you use your knives to threaten them into submission, then?"

'They knew I could have.'

The pair of investigators had arrived at the bank just an hour prior, with the intention of digging up financial information on the missing Dallas Genoard. They knew a couple of people associated with the bank - a passing knowledge, the kind of acquaintanceship that still requires greased hands for favors. Usually, this posed no problem, but Claire wasn't in the mood to be jerked around that day, so he'd headed over dead-set on intimidating them into handing over any pertinent information.

"You didn't have to go meet with them, you know. I could have handled it. I don't get why you felt the need to take my place."

'I wanted to do this. I want to take my own action too, Claire.'

Truth be told, most of Chane's reasons for insisting on speaking with their contacts in Claire's stead had to do with her not wanting him to stir any trouble up in the city. She had confidence that Claire could deal with anything and come out on top, but she still would rather this case not be unnecessarily painful for everyone involved. Plus, she did not like when Claire forced his way into taking the lead on every part of their work. It often left her feeling useless.

"Well, whatever the case, your ability astonishes me, Chane." He said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "Now, here's the question - do we read them here? Or take them back home or something?"

'We'll read them here. We have to pick up dinner before we go home, remember?'

Claire stared at her, tilting his head.

After realizing he did not understand, Chane added, 'Because Firo is coming over?'

"Oh, right, that. I told him to bring food over for that."

'Why - ' The question bubbled to her mind, but she decided against it. Although it was completely improper to ask the guest to bring dinner, it was exactly the type of thing that Claire was prone to doing. And if she asked, he'd only bring her deeper into that strange logic of his, and she did not have the time to wrangle with that today. So she'd just accept it.

'Well then we have time to read here.' Chane amended.

Claire agreed with this. Besides, the faster they got the case out of the way, the more time they had to just be on their own enjoying the city. One day already had him deciding he did not like the person they were locating, so he wasn't particularly invested in the case. He walked over to one of the couches put in place for the bank's clientele and plopped down on it, gesturing for Chane to do the same. She lowered herself down next to him and, when he didn't try to grab them, handed him the papers she'd just acquired.

'I haven't looked over them yet. Tell me what you think.' She instructed.

Nodding, the private eye scanned over the first sheet of paper, and then he progressively flipped through each report. He wasn't too great with numbers - math was too dry to hold his attention during his education - but he figured an elementary kid could grasp the patterns in Dallas Genoard's records.

"Lucky for us, this guy uses his card for everything. Booze, some bookie debts, more booze, a casino debt, another bar bill, some clothes from a store he can't afford to shop at, import cigars - looks like we got ourselves a real winner here, huh?" He said.

'Every man has his vices.'

"You defending this guy, Chane?" It wasn't an accusation. The only inflection in his voice was that of curiosity.

'No. None of those are his vices.'

Claire mulled over her statement for a while, scanning over the sheets one more time before the implication of her words hit him. His eyes widened, and he shuffled the papers quickly as he tried to pinpoint a certain pattern.

"Because his vice is greed, isn't it?" He said. "Smart, Chane. How lucky I am to have such a smart woman."

Though she felt her face grow a tad warm, Chane kept her expression frigid. She did not know how to deal with Claire's compliments still, even after all this time.

When he found what he was looking for, Claire jabbed at the paper, grinning at his own success. Whenever there existed a problem in need of solving, his world opened up to show him the path, no exceptions. Moments like this reaffirmed his belief in his position as the universe's indisputable center.

"Regular deposits. Thousands of dollars apiece. Pretty regularly spaced, too, every couple of months. He was being paid off. Illegally - I'll bet on it." Claire said, memorizing where the deposits were for later.

'Does the statement tell you where it comes from?'

Still smiling, Claire shook his head, "Nah, just gives an account and what sounds like a fake corporation. Still, it'll be no time before we sew this one shut."

Even though he presented no method or evidence towards making the affirmation true, Chane believed him with all of her heart. His certainty was catching, and she found herself sure that they'd close up their business in New York City quickly as well.

'What is his last purchase or withdrawal?' She asked, remembering that line of investigation. She knew to always keep in mind any possibility, especially since Claire liked to grab a hold of one avenue and run with it.

"Some restaurant down in the lower-east part of town. I don't recognize it." He said.

She peered over at the paper. 'Neither do I.'

Claire shrugged and folded up the papers. He creased them firmly until he could fit them into his pocket, and then he stood from the chair and held out a hand to Chane. She took it and got to her feet as well.

"So I guess we have our plan then." Claire said.

To her surprise, Chane found herself automatically nodding, and she meant it. She did not even have to ask Claire about the details, which he had not even hinted at, of where they'd proceed next. When Firo came over, they'd ask him for information on the faux company on the bank statements, and hopefully figure out who was behind the bribes. Since Dallas was a lawyer, the illicit payments probably originated from somewhere in the justice system, so Firo would have the inside scoop on that. And then, sometime in addition to that, they'd go to the restaurant to trace the Genoard's last known moments.

Chane grasped all this without even having to reason it out; the knowledge just popped into her mind as if Claire had told her all of it. Looking at him, the confident smile on his lips and the gleam in his eye that put him at odds with the whole world, she wondered if their silent communication actually came double-sided. Perhaps she, too, had learned to speak the unspoken language of his strange mind.

Unsure what to make of the thought, she gripped his hand tighter. Then, looking into his eyes, she gave her agreement. And she prepared herself for the path ahead, certain that, whatever may come, she could trust her own abilities and Claire's rock-steady faith in himself and his world to carry them through it. Together.

'It's a plan.'

A/N: Shorter chapter, sorry, but that's what the story called for. Well, thank you for reading! Classes have now started for me, but I will try to keep this update schedule still, since it seems to be working out well.